


Smile

by MadJJ



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, F/M, Fluff, King's Landing, The Battle of the Blackwater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-09-26 16:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadJJ/pseuds/MadJJ
Summary: Sansa wants to see Sandor smile.





	1. Sandor's Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyTP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTP/gifts).



> This gift is an unofficial addition to the Sansan Secret Santa Challenge of 2018 (my official participation birthed another project, not yet available on AO3), as I saw that Lady TP (who is a wonderful writer and that you should really go check out if you somehow managed to miss her incredible work) was interested in participating but had to withdraw. As a long-time reader of hers I fell compelled to write her a little something anyway, so here it is!
> 
> I hope it manages to make you smile ;)
> 
> And Merry Christmas!

“The sun is quite pleasant today, isn’t it?”

 

“…”

 

“Of course, the wind could be considered a little chilly – since we’re in the South – but I don’t find in too bothersome…”

 

“…”

 

“… What lovely birds over there, they seem to be enjoying the weather too!”

 

Her remark was met with another brooding silence. Sansa was aware that her conversation – or rather monologue, considering the lack of reaction from the Hound – was becoming quite asinine. She felt the fault was more his than hers in that matter though, since he didn’t say a single word to help the conversation along, and she was left to find subject to discuss all by herself.

 

The weather might not be the most fascinating one, but couldn’t he at least respond with… A grunt? Or a nod?

 

There was no obligation for them to discuss anything, but wouldn’t it have made the trip back more pleasant?

 

She eyed him from underneath her lashes, observing his expression. Why did he have to look so serious? She had more reason to be gloomy than him in this place, but it didn’t stop her from trying to put on a smile! Sansa didn’t want to be feel down all the time, even less when she had to pretend that her current situation wasn’t distressing to her, and she felt that he didn’t help. At all.

 

Had he ever smiled in her presence? She couldn’t recall.

 

She was curious to see it happen now.

 

°-°

 

“… And then the soldier told him ‘I used to be an adventurer just like you, but then I took an arrow to the knee’, and nodded towards his wife!”

 

The deafening silence that followed was as strong as a blow to her.

 

That joke always made Jon and Arya laugh so much! Granted, Sansa didn’t understand it fully, but she had had it memorized by heart by now. Had she not told it correctly?

 

“Back to your cage,” the Hound simply opened her door, his expression unmoving.

 

Sansa, in her new quest of making him smile, had been exhausting all the jokes she knew. Nothing! It was as if he was determined not to move a muscle on his face.

 

Snarling, brooding, even a manly form of pouting, that he could do. But smiling? She felt like she was trying to lift a mountain!

 

She had to think of something else.

 

°-°

 

“You truly shine in the training yard,” remarked Sansa.

 

Nothing, not even a thank you. He simply eyed her as if she wasn’t acting normally.

 

She wasn’t saying anything that was untrue though, was she? Joffrey rarely acknowledged his capacities, treating them as if they were something to be expected, something normal, so she thought that maybe… It wouldn’t be so bad if she told him that she saw value in his accomplishments.

 

And that maybe it finally would get him to smile a little.

 

“I don’t know much about fighting – b-but you systematically beat your opponent. So, I…”

 

“I never thought the Little Bird would be appreciative of my ability to kill,” he cut her short.

 

“What?”

 

“This is what it is all about, isn’t it? This fighting you admire, it doesn’t have anything to do with honor or other saccharine values you adore so much. Had I met those opponents on the battlefield, they would all be dead.”

 

Sansa internally sighed, and gave up  on the compliments. He only saw it as a way to give her another one of his life-lessons.

 

°-° 

 

Sansa’s eyes would have seemed focused on her work for anyone looking from the outside, but in truth, her mind was brewing with thoughts that were completely unrelated to threads and patterns.

 

She had already pricked herself thrice this morning, and it was a wonder she hadn’t tainted her sewing with blood.

 

How does one make another – a reluctant other – smile?

 

She felt as if she had tried everything at this point. She probably would have succeeded with jokes if she had been better at telling them, or if she had known other ones.

 

All that was left for her to try was to make silly faces at him, and hope he didn’t think she had simply lost her mind.

 

The memory of Arya, twisting her face in vulgar expressions, sometimes using her fingers to stretch the skin of her cheeks and nose in improbable position, made her both smile fondly and blush. Sansa was never doing something as undignified as _that_!

 

Well, she had given it her best shot, but it might have been time to give up now. It wasn’t that bad after all. Just a smile…

 

°v°

 

Sansa shifted nervously from one foot to another. It was chilly this morning, especially as she waited standing outside of the training field in an awkward stance. She didn’t feel like going to the bleachers where anyone could see her.

 

Finally, his tall figure made its way towards where she was standing. She knew he’d exit the place through here, as she had observed him many times before.

 

She almost called out ‘Ser’, before biting her tongue. He got grumpy – or downright aggressive - if she made the mistake of calling him that, which greatly reduced her choices in what she could call him. She was already fretting this encounter, there was no sense in angering him before even nearing the matter she wanted to address.

 

“Sandor!” she called without even thinking.

 

Well. That was his name, might as well use it.

 

He looked surprised at seeing her standing there, which made sense since she had never come close to this place before. She was surprised someone hadn’t already find out she wasn’t somewhere she was supposed to be and called a guard to forcefully accompany her back to her ‘cage’, as Sandor liked to describe it.

 

He approached, a look of suspicion in is eyes. Really, it was as if he thought she was luring him back here to slip a knife between his ribs, regardless of the fact that Sansa would never be able to achieve such a feat! In truth, she should have been the one worried while they were alone outside other people’s sight.

 

She breathed, not to calm her nerves, that were strangely unruffled by this unusual encounter, but to gather the courage to hand him the gift she had made.

 

“I had something to give you,” she simply said, holding out her hand.

 

It was a sort of apology gift. Even if he hadn’t asked her anything, she still felt she had failed him in her attempts at bringing out a smile.

 

“Is this a way for you to thank me again?” he raised a mocking eyebrow, referencing a past discussion that had been too disastrous to remember right now.

 

“It’s just a handkerchief,” she shrugged, trying to project indifference to hide her nervousness. “If you don’t want it it’s fine…” she started to retract her arm.

 

“Fine,” he cut her, grabbing the gift, “I’ll take it. Now run along, it wouldn’t do for someone to find you in such an isolated place.”

 

He had spoken in such a way that made her feel like this was a great honor that he even accepted to take it, but… The rapidity of his move to take a hold of the handkerchief told Sansa that, maybe, there was something else behind it.

 

“I’ll be on my way,” she rapidly curtsied, turning around and heading back to where she was supposed to be.

 

Just before she turned the corner though, she risked a glance in his direction.

 

As he looked down on the pattern of dog she had sown with a discreet, yet unmistakable red bird flying so close to the border you could miss it, a soft smile laid on his lips.

 

_It makes his eyes kinder_ , she thought before leaving, wearing a smile of her own.


	2. Sansa's Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor wants to see Sansa's true smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really plan on another chapter... But then I was talking with carobaldoni on tumblr who asked if there would be another one and I got this idea. So, this chapter is for you carobaldoni! I hope you'll like it!
> 
> (also, cookie points to those who find the very obvious references to a certain show...)

"Yet another beautiful day, isn't it?"

 

The girl chirped with that usual sad smile of hers, glancing at him quickly, before turning her head to the sky again. Her face bathed in the sunlight, and her hair shone like bright copper.

 

He should have said something back, but he didn't know what.

 

"I wonder what tomorrow will be like."

 

Her words lost substance day after day, just as her spark dimmed with every moment spent in this place. Yet she still put on her mask. He wasn't sure if it was for the world or for herself.

 

"Well, back to my cage it is then."

 

They had arrived in front of her door, and she was already making her way in, not waiting for his usual push forward. His hand shot out despite himself, preventing the door from closing.

 

He stared at the guilty appendage, angry at it from moving on its own volition. Now he had to say something, didn't he?

 

"... I... Thank you. For your gift."

 

He quickly let go of the door and turned around to walk away from her. He had only glimpsed at the surprised, honest look on her face, and he didn't want to see what it would change into.

 

As he turned at the end of the corridor, he realized that he had changed his mind. He wanted to know, now, what her face would look like without its smiling, emotionless, porcelain mask.

 

He had only ever seen her fear when she lost it, but this was an emotion he could hardly crave from her when she had just gone through the trouble of offering him such a thoughtful gift.

 

Unpractical, and terribly trite in regard of classic romantic songs, but thoughtful nonetheless.

 

Maybe it was his turn to be thoughtful. Find a way to break this shell and bring out something true out of her. He’d done his best to show her the truth of the world they lived in, and now it seemed she had learned at least part of her lesson well.

 

Sandor didn’t know what he wanted exactly, but it had everything to do with Sansa Stark.

 

°-°

 

For some reason, lately, she had been telling him jokes. A lot of them. He had no idea what it was for – maybe she had been trying them out on him to see if it’d get a reaction from Joffrey. Any other reaction than annoyance would have been surprising when the girl only knew the most proper or well-known jokes possible. Some of them might have been funny if he hadn’t heard them about a dozen times before.

 

He had schooled his features any time the hint of a smile might have been threatening his lips, so he would not encourage her. This would only end up with her pretty little head on a spike. The idea was particularly unappealing.

 

He glanced at her. She was praying, her face up towards the blood red leaves of the smokeberry vines covering the heart tree, a great oak which looked as old as the stones of the Red Keep.

 

She looked so solemn like this, and so vulnerable. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her face, feeling like an intruder.

 

When her prayers came to an end and it was time to bring her back to her chambers, he suddenly felt the urge to liven up her mood. Her somber expression hadn’t gone away, even now that her praying was done. He hadn’t thought he’d hope for that smiling porcelain mask of her again, but anything would have been better than this.

 

Jokes, she had been telling him some. Maybe he could try… ?

 

“I have heard Lord Flint has had some issues as of late,” the girl twittered away, unaware of his musings. “All kinds of nasty rumors have been circulating, of which I have not managed to make any sense of.”

 

Sandor tried to remember the jokes he knew, and only managed to come up with one involving a Meereenese Knot. He did not believe this would be a suitable solution – for obvious reasons.

 

“Do you give any credit to it?” asked Sansa, looking uninterested in his answer, her expressions revealing that her concerns laid in a far less frivolous matter.

 

Sandor grunted uncommittedly, frowning. Of course, his mind would refuse to change its focus to another thing.

 

“Hm. No, I didn’t expect you to pay attention to gossips.”

 

Maybe the one about the three merchants arriving in Meereen – no, that one never made any sense to him, he wouldn’t manage to make it sound funny.

 

“I think I’ll join Lady Bonny for tea this afternoon, as she invited me. King Joffrey did not require my presence, did he?”

 

Sandor grunted again, sighting the door where they would part.

 

Once again, she had simply led the conversation on her own with no input of his part.

 

As Sandor walked away, he thought it was probably for the best. Bawdy jokes were not fit for a lady.

 

°-°

 

Sansa’s mood had done nothing but plummeting as of late. Sandor could tell, because that empty smile of hers strained her cheeks almost constantly now, even as her eyes filled with an iciness that chilled him to the core.

 

They were exiting one of her meetings with Joffrey. This one had thankfully been free of physical violence, something that became a rare occurrence. Joffrey had not held back his insults though, belittling her with every word. She had maintained her smile and taken it all with grace, reinforcing Joffrey’s idea that she was nothing but an empty-headed doll he could play with as much as he wanted.

 

Her steps were slow as they dragged themselves back to her room. They had taken this path so often. He never tired of it though, this was one of the rare respites in his day.

 

His ponderings brought him back to a recent day. She had tried to compliment him then, which he took as an opportunity to put some sense in her.

 

What if he tried…?

 

“You shouldn’t be so glum. One day you’ll… You’ll make a wonderful wife.”

 

Sansa slowed in her steps, then stopped, and purposefully turned her eyes to him as she left her ruminations and understood the meaning of his words.

 

If her eyes were ice blue, her voice was frost.

 

“I know I’ll never satisfy whatever Joffrey’s expectations are – you needn’t jape about it.”

 

Sandor froze in place. He hadn’t expected his words to backfire this way. He had to take a few long strides to catch up with her.

 

°-°

 

The training that day had been as much of a challenge as usual – which was to say, not much. Regardless of the lack of talent in his opponents, Sandor had still poured all of his energy at them. It must have been a pitiful display, the beating of a few skill-less buggers to take out his frustration. It mustn’t have taught the lads a lot, aside from pain resistance, but did it make wonder to calm him down.

 

This was how he did things. What he was good at. Winning ladies’ smiles wasn’t in his expertise.

 

He rolled his shoulder, where the joints of his armor needed a good look at. He couldn’t wait to get out of this thing. Unfortunately, he still had a bit of walking until he reached the White Sword Tower and the comfort of his bed. This allowed more intrusive contemplations to come to him, despite his best efforts at chasing them away during training.

 

The best he could have offered to Sansa was to kill anyone who ever hurt her. This idea, while tempting, presented several flaws. First, he would have to use another method than plain massacre to eliminate the long list of powerful persons this criterion pointed to. Second, he’d have to be completely insane.

 

Third, and more importantly, he doubted this would even bring her any joy. She was the perfect Lady. With her kind manners and words, she might very well find it in her to forgive them. He never knew what nonsensical, song-inspired idea she might come up with next.

 

No, in the end, he thought as he passed the kitchens, he was but a mere dog trying to think up some trick to make a girl laugh when all he was good at was slaughter.

 

°v°

 

Sandor had it under good authority that she would be out of her rooms this afternoon: she had yet again chirped to him about being invited to Lady Bonny’s tea time. Sandor wasn’t sure why she persisted going, since the lady in question was a mean-spirited gossip, but it did give him an opportunity.

 

He had every intention of getting in and out of there as fast as he could, yet when he entered the room, he was surprised at not finding it empty.

 

“What are you…?” began Sansa, before noticing who he was. “Wh… Why are you here?”

 

Sandor, for half a second, felt petrified. He did not expect his simple, failproof plan to betray him so spectacularly.

 

He gathered himself quickly enough, a lie coming up faster than he could think.

 

“… I was ordered to bring something for you.”

 

The lie jumped out like a little devil, scratching at the walls of his throat on its way out.

 

“You didn’t knock,” she accused lightly, more interested it seemed, in what he had hidden in a kitchen towel.

 

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be here,” he countered.

 

“Oh. You were listening?”

 

She stared at him as if she expected him to answer, which he didn’t.

 

“I changed my… I mean, it was… Canceled,” she finished unconvincingly.

 

Maybe  she had realized how terrible it was to be in company of Lady Bonny.

 

“Well, since I’m here, you might as well give it to me in person!”

 

“Don’t get so excited. It’s just some leftovers…”

 

“And someone asked you to bring me this…?” she questioned, with a quirked eyebrow that told him she saw right through him.

 

He willfully ignored it.

 

When Sandor flipped open the towel to reveal the big piece of lemon cake he had stolen from the kitchens the previous night though, her expression completely changed.

 

The porcelain mask fell, and the ice in her eyes melted.

 

He hadn’t believed it possible but…

 

 _It makes her eyes kinder_ , he thought before leaving, a smile of his own threatening his lips.


	3. Not so Secret Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other people start to notice the changes in their behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to peer presure, here's another chapter. Special thanks to carolbadoni and Aësälys (I love your pseudo) who had me thinking so much about a potential third chapter that this happened (yes I'll blame them too if it's not good.) I'm really nervous about this chapter, since it's a big change from the original formula (why am I speaking about fanfics as if they were a science) but I hope you'll enjoy!

The Hound was smiling. He would, every so often, when no one was looking – not that anyone was, because who would gaze upon his burned face if not a curious spider?

 

This was not something to take lightly. In Varys’ eyes, nothing was to be taken lightly, because even the smallest of changes could mean a disaster. In this case? The loyal Lannister lapdog could turn out not so loyal after all.

 

The Spider was one of the few to know the true story behind Sandor Clegane’s scars, and even then, he had never learned it in one, direct recounting. No, it was all whispers from different sources which joined in one muddy central stream. Unclear, but large enough that he could guess the details.

 

A tragic story if he ever heard one. Not so dissimilar to his own in some regards : both had been quite young. Both had to suffer consequences for the rest of their lives.

 

And both had dealt with it in much different ways.

 

Varys had hidden behind false pleasantries. The Hound behind that constant snarl of his.

 

Such a radical change in attitude begged to be investigated. Anything that could be used to damage the Lannisters’ stability could be of use after all. Though so far, all he had to go on was the increase in the Hound’s choice of clothing.

 

°-°

 

Sansa was smiling. Not that false smile she had been putting on her face every time she had to leave her rooms, no. That one was a secret smile, one that would come out of thin air, when she was deep into her thoughts.

 

Petyr did not like what it might imply. The secret escape planned with Dontos the fool he had been supervising for months had never brought her enough hope to elicit this reaction. So, what was it? Had she made other plans? Had she found someone in court who caught her eye maybe? The flowers she decorated her hair with seemed to imply so. But that was unlikely, as she was still, despite everything, betrothed to Joffrey. Surely, the girl couldn’t be stupid enough to entertain the idea of a romance with someone else. She was too afraid of the bastard king.

 

Still. What if someone else had set their views on her, and wished to spirit away the key to the North? Petyr would need to keep an eye on her. The lemon cakes she somehow managed to snuggle out of the kitchens couldn’t be the only reasons behind her new positive attitude.

 

°-°

 

Every time he saw her, he noticed there was something strange about her. Not at first no, he had other worries. He was king, Joffrey could not afford to focus all his attention on his brainless fiancée, not when the threat of his uncle’s ships was becoming more certain by the day!

 

Still. It annoyed him. She was… Happy. Or something along those lines. Maybe it was the flowers (ugly and crude, she should have known to pick better ones).

 

Her misery brought him more joy than her happiness though, and so he resolved to assigning his dog to guard duty with her more often. With his ugly mug, he’d soon have her frightened so much that she wouldn’t find it in her to display such emotions.

 

He had had other, more creative ideas in the past, but for now all he could be bothered to do was use his crudest white cloak. With that small annoyance dealt with for the time being, he could return to supervising his dwarf of an uncle while he prepared for the battle against the false king – amusingly enough, his other uncle.

 

°-°

 

The middle of the battle was probably the worst time the Hound could ever pick to decide he wouldn’t be so loyal to the House of red and gold anymore. Yet, here was Tyrion, looking at the man cursing the king’s guard, the city and the king himself.

 

He had led three sorties already, and came back from all of them without much damage, which couldn’t be said for the rest of his men. His sudden reluctance to follow orders was what broke the survivors’ resolve. Tyrion could see it in their faces as they were crumbing into defeat.

 

Yet, he noted as he took the decision to lead them himself, there was quite a different expression on the Hound’s face. He did not expect him, in his cowardice, to look so satisfied, yet there it was, twisting his features into a grotesque travesty of a smile, this unabashed triumphant look on his face.

 

Tyrion soon had other worries in mind though, as he forgot the Hound to focus on avoiding death.

 

°v°

 

Stranger was not what you’d call a tame horse. In fact, he’d been called a lot of other things. Stranger himself was familiar with the concept of being tamed, because he had witnessed it in other individuals of his species. He also did not care much for following rules other horses bent to.

 

Could they not see the threat that every human posed to them? Could they not feel the mix of fear and hate whenever one approached? Did they not care that they had no idea how to take care of them properly?

 

The only one who detached himself from the other, puny humans, was his companion, his equal. A kindred soul of sort; he knew how to behave around Stranger, and despite his constant scowl, Stranger had quickly grown to trust him.

 

It was no wonder then that Stranger had started to notice the sudden shift in his friend’s attitude. It felt as if… He had been tamed himself. Stranger didn’t know what to do with it. Had the human been gelded, the way so many had tried to break Stranger before? From his smell, unchanged, it was doubtful.

 

It was only when the night with the green sky came that Stranger understood what had happened. The smell of smoke had him stir up in the stables, answering to the other’s stressed neighs with his own. The humans, useless as always, did not understand the urgency of setting them free, preferring to keep them locked where the fire could get to them.

 

Stranger’s friend was always loathing leaving him there, the horse could feel it, but he had long understood that his friend hadn’t much of a choice in the matter either. Now, all Stranger could do was wait for him to come fetch him, as his constant hoof kicking was useless against the wooden doors. He’d get them destroyed yet, if the fire didn’t catch to him first!

 

A sense of calm washed over him when he heard the familiar voice of his tall human. Now, they’d get out of there together, with Stranger carrying him and his human giving him wise counsel on where to go.

 

Stranger started protesting strongly when he saw the smaller, frailer human with him. A female with a blazing mane, she looked terrified upon seeing at him. Had his friend lost his mind? This was the kind of human he avoided like snakes! This was the kind that ended up hurting him –

 

His friend immediately interposed himself between a rearing Stranger and the human female, as if _she_ was the one who needed protection.

 

Maybe she did. Stranger was considering trampling her in a preemptive act. When his human turned to her and reassured her though, Stranger quickly abandoned the idea, finally understanding the situation.

 

This explained so much.

 

She was his mate! This was the reason for his recent change in attitude, this was why he was introducing her to him. Stranger wasn’t sure yet he could approve of his choice, but when the female approached him with a wobbly smile and extended, trembling hand, he decided he might have been judging her too quickly. He stared at her a moment, waiting for her to take back her hand or try to hit him with it, but she remained resolute.

 

He huffed, his approval unwillingly won, and bumped the end of her fingers with his nose.

 

Now that this little introduction had been dealt with, his human was wasting no time in preparing Stranger to be mounted. Stranger didn’t bulk under his attention, knowing that fragile humans needed all sorts of trappings to keep themselves on a horse’s back – even his human wasn’t exempted of this handicap.

 

Stranger didn’t protest further when the female was put on his back by his human friend.

 

Any doubts Stranger might have had about his recent acquired softness quickly dissolved when they made their way out of the city; his coupling had not diminished Stranger’s companion in his fierceness. He cut down any two-legged creature who dared standing in their way. The gentleness the horse had detected only affected his human when he was exclusively in his mate’s company or mooning over her it seemed.

 

He still had his excellent sense of direction too, has he indicated to Stranger the road to a forest not so far from the stinking, bustling city the horse disliked so much. Eventually, they arrived at a clearing where he was dismounted, and unequipped. Far from the smoke and danger, Stranger could finally relax.

 

The hesitant, but friendly and delightful pats the female gave him were a great help in that. She wasn’t half as bad as he originally thought.

 

Stranger found that he didn’t mind his friend’s smiles anymore, now that he saw him exchanging them with his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horses can understand human expressions! Check out Clever Hans' story!
> 
> Also, more cookie points to gain if you notice the small reference to "The Gift", by wandering_gypsy_feet I couldn't help but make after reading it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can also find me on tumblr : https://mad-j-j.tumblr.com/


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